What I've Grown
by Native Soah
Summary: Inspired by the song Mermaid by Yuna, I suggest you listen to it!The mission statement was simple enough: gather information on illegal weapons dealer General Luchkov and eradicate him.Of course, mission statements were easier said then done. Natasha reflects back on how shes changed from Red Room to Avenger days.


_There's a place I used to know_

 _A seed I used to sow_

 _Sometimes I want to go back_

 _And give them all I have_

 _Trying to show some love_

Natasha, decked out in her black catsuit, stood in front of her closet mirror, staring intently at herself. Her emerald eyes scanned her appearance as she did a mental checklist of her equipment. Her two trusty Glock 26s were encased in their respective holsters on her thighs, held up by her black widows belt which was stocked with rounds of ammunition for her guns and a few other things she kept handy when needed; she looked down at her wrists, making fists to see that her Widows Bites were, indeed, charged; and checking her gauntlets to see that her grappling hook and pellet bombs were working properly. She, Clint, and Steve were assigned to a two month espionage and mayhem mission in Volgograd, Russia; her birth place, and she'd be damned if none of her equipment was working when she'd need it most.

The mission statement was simple enough: gather information on illegal weapons dealer General Luchkov and if enough information was given, wipe him and his cohorts out of existence. Of course, mission statements were easier said then done, and for this particular mission, it was going to be _a lot_ easier said then done. For Natasha at least.

She had a history with, the now general, Luchkov. From what she could remember, back in the 40s when she was still with the Red Room Academy, he was a young apprentice to her surperior and handler. She supposed he was an old fart now and going senile; must be if he was sellimg illegal firearms to radicalists. A corrupt smile formed on her lips; once this mission was over, Luchkov would be resting six feet under with a bullet to the head. When hearing his name during the pre-mission briefing, her hands developed trigger happy fingers that were itching for revenge. He took away her only source of life, so she'd take away his, only after chewing him out with a few select words.

"...Nat. Hey, c'mon this isn't funny, Nat." She snapped away from her thoughts and reanalyzed herself in the mirror. Sometime during her thought process she had managed to point one of her Glocks at her reflection, her face void of any emotion or sign that she was in her right mind. Clint was now in the room and stood beside her, looking at her through the mirror, with his hands up in surrender. "I know you're... Offset about this mission, but holy shit Nat, whatever you're thinking in that head of yours," he tapped her forehead with two of his fingers and with her unoccupied hand, she began to swat at it like it was a fly, "you need to cool it. Are you alright?"

 _There's a place I need to find_

 _And need to be there in time_

 _Don't try to over and out lies_

 _I'm just a girl who's fighting her time_

Natasha heaved a sigh before replacing her Glock in the right holster. "Yea Clint," she turned away from the mirror and stepped towards the center of the room, "Facing someone from my past _that long ago_ isn't easy. Not when I know they were responsible for the idea of the Red Room's graduate ceremony."

Clint stepped behind her and placed both his large calloused hands on her shoulders. He knew Nat pretty well, for at least five years, and he could trust her. From what he could tell, she had never lied to him for her benefit, but of course he knew she hadn't always been truthful in sharing things. For instance, he didn't really know how old she was, just her birthday. When they first met, that fateful night he was sent to terminate her, and he saw her and _knew_ that she could be someone else, someone good. He had asked how old she was and asked how long this was her profession, she had declined to share her age and just said she had been doing this for years and that it was the only thing she knew other than ballet.

Frankly, that shocked Clint. Upon confronting her on the roof he was supposed to complete his mission on, his first impression of her was, well, intimidating. Here was a young _gorgeous_ woman who had been trained her entire life to kill. Staring into her green eyes, he could see they were fierce, but empty, missing, _craving_ something, and he took the chance to ask her if this was the kind of life she wanted. If it wasn't, then he offered to her that he wouldn't kill her and she'd just have to come with him. The hand that was holding a gun straight between his eyes didn't falter, but the expression in her eyes did and that was the only answer he needed. He saw a glimer of hope for freedom.

He had lowered his bow and arrow to look at the incoming quinjet that was supposed to retrieve him and the body of said woman. Who, while he had been looking away, kicked his bow and arrow out of his band and managed to sudbdue him in less than a minute to a crippling mess of groans. He had asked her why she did that, but not as politely, and she had answered with:

"I know who you are, Hawkeye. I know your history from beginning to now. You're an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D sent to kill me because I got on their radar. I know why they call you Hawkeye and I know you were an assassin like me. Clint Barton, you saw me moving to attack you and did nothing to stop me _and kill me._ You were honest about what you said. I'll come with you."

After he had gained all feeling back in his left leg, and the quinjet had locked on all weapons on her, he had to tell the pilots to stand down and bound Natasha's hands just for safe precaution before boarding her on the jet. Of course there was opposition from the pilot and warnings that the Director wasn't going to be happy at the sudden change of plans, but Hawkeye sat her down next to him and he watched and even smiled when Natasha had managed to scare the young rookie pilot. It was an interesting memory for them all.

He was brought back to the current time when fingers snapped in front of his face. He refocused on Natasha, who currently held an impatient look on her delicate but hardened features. He could only help by smiling. Green eyes rolled. "Just thinking of old times, Nat," he shrugged.

 _I'm so much stronger_

 _They will need to listen to what I have to say_

 _There's a bigger sea for a girl like me_

 _When I come back and trying to show some love_

Green eyes softened as she read his thoughts. She too remembered that night quite well and quite often. Remembering how she made the rookie pilot wet himself brought a reminiscent smile to face. Natasha looked down at her Widow's Bites then, remembering when she graduated from the Red Room at the top of her class. At the top of everything. When they first dubbed her Black Widow and gave her her first set of bites. She felt empty inside that day. Like she had been since they sent her on her first assassination and it was either kill or be killed. She was only ten.

"You know, Clint," she drawled out quietly, said man turning his blue eyes onto her, "I've gotten so much stronger since then. I've grown into someone I can call _myself_. Not a weapon. Not an asset. But _me_. _Natasha_." She clenched a fist, sparks of electricity popping from her bites. She relaxed it and set it down at her side once more. She continued on, her voice steady and stern, but strong, "When I see Luchkov, I swear I'm going to make him listen to what I have to say. He'll regret the day he joined the Red Room as an apprentice. The day he watched as I was sterilized. He'll listen and I'll _make_ him listen."

There was a knock at the door and Natasha swung her head around to face it, surprisingly not hurting herself. Clint merely smiled and looked up. Natasha had been so deep into her rant she failed to hear the super soldiers steps. "How can we help ya, Cap?" The archer raised a brow at Steve. "Are we ready for take off?"

Steve cleared his throat nervously, obviously he had interrupted something. "Uh, yea. We've been ready for a few minutes. I came down to get you guys." He leaned a hand on the doorway and moved aside to let the archer slither out of Nat's room, who only looked away.

The only thing heard from Clint was a quiet, "I wonder if they got food on the quinjet this time. I feel peckish." Steve just grinned.

"Is there ever a time Clint isn't hungry?" He asked after a moment of silence between the two of them. He crossed his arms then, still leaning on the doorframe and staring down the hall. "It's a good thing you two spar with each other. He'd get fat."

At that Natasha turned to face Steve with a smirk. He was right, Clint would've been fat if she didn't regularly spar with him. "Only after a bad mission he doesn't eat. Depending on how bad the mission went too, he won't eat for awhile. Then it gets serious." Her smile turned sad for a split second, replacing it quickly before Steve noticed and questioned. Only once had Clint not eaten for an attire week and that was after a solo mission he had in Bulgaria.

He had watched as a little girl, no older than the age of twelve he told Nat, get caught in the crossfire between him and his enemies. She had gotten shot in the back with a pistol right as Clint got to her to take her to safety. She collapsed into his arms and cried for her parents, who had been killed two weeks prior. Clint managed to pick up the girl and find cover in an alleyway. He held the girl in his arms and gave her comfort in her last minutes as he told her she'd be happy seeing her parents again. She smiled to him and in rough English told him,

"Thank you, sir, for everything. You didn't leave me there to die and now I can happily be with my family again." The young girl looked at Clint with bright but distant jade eyes as she lifted a hand to touch Clint's chest over his heart. With her last breath she managed out, "You remind me of my papa." And with that she closed her eyes and her hand fell. Clint had caught it and held onto it for a few minutes. He prayed for the first time in a long time, praying that the girl would be happy with her family once more. Once he left the body, he had renewed vigor to take out his targets and did so viciously and accordingly. He cried later that night and again when telling Natasha the story. She had simply held onto Clint and fisted her hands in his shirt. She knew well what innocent death looked like from a young age.

Steve cleared his throat again, this time more sternly. Natasha raised a finely plucked brow at him. "I believe we have a mission waiting for us, Nat. Wouldn't want to keep Luchkov waiting." He instantly kicked himself mentally for mentioning the soviet general to the equally Russian girl. He watched as her body tensed in front of him and a frown formed at him. He had heard enough of the conversation to know what this was about. "Listen, Nat-"

"Let's talk on the way up to the quinjet, Rogers. If we don't hurry, Clint will get himself bloated before the mission and he'll be useless to us." Natasha hurriedly stepped from her room into the hallway and whizzed past a bewildered Steve. She had a point. Clint would be useless, but he was expecting her to say 'Drop it, Rogers.' and brush it aside like she normally did. But he accepted it was the closest he was getting to talking to Nat on a deep level and followed after her.

 _When I come back and trying to show some love_

 _Trying to show some love_

After catching up to Natasha, and narrowly missing her to the elevator, Steve turned to face her as they began their trip to the roof. He took a deep breath and raked a hand through his hair. "Okay, Nat, here's the thing. You're _so_ much better than you we're when you first walked into SHIELD." She shot him a glance from the corner of her eyes that read _'you don't know anything about me'_. Steve sighed and prepared to bite the bullet she was undoubtedly going to shoot at him, "I'm going to be honest, Natasha, I read your SHIELD file and-"

"You _what_?" She whipped around to face him completely. Her arms came up to cross over her chest and she had a scowl on her face. "You have one minute to explain, Rogers. Or we're sparring in this elevator."

Steve held up his hands and visibily gulped. "Okay, now hold on-"

"Thirty seconds, Rogers."

"Okay! Listen, I know I probably shouldn't have read your file without your permission. But Clint helped me get ahold of it and, "he tensed as he watched Natasha fisted both her hands and her widows bites came to life, "and I wanted to get to know you Natasha, and we both know I couldn't just ask you because you'd push me away. If you're afraid of me leaving you as partners after what you've done for the KGB, you couldn't be any more wrong. I won't leave you. What you did in the last was the past. It wasn't you. It wasn't _Natasha._ It wasn't the person I know right now.

You've changed for the better and that's so admirable. You struggled to change into something you wanted to be and you did. You're so strong, and smart, and have so much more compassion and love for people then you probably did back with the Soviet Union. You have skills that no other person posseses, yes, but you're also a one of a kind person. God, Natasha, if you only you could see how amazing you are. After the battle of New York, you should see how many little girls want to be like you and look up to you. Sure, they don't know your past or what you've done. But what natters to them is that they have a strong female hero to look up to. My point is Natasha, you've grown so much stronger since I first met you and I'm glad I have you as my partner and hopefully, a friend."

Steve slumped against the elevator walls, the shield on his back clanking noisily agasint the metal wall. His helmet dangled from his belt and gently bounced against his thigh. A heavy sigh came from his lips. "That was probably more than thirty seconds."

Natasha uncrossed her arms and hung them limply at her sides. She turned back to the elevator doors and leaned back against it's metal wall, the coolness seeping through her catsuit and infusing with her heated skin. Steve had been very honest with her. Afraid, yes, but she often did that to people. Natasha smiled to herself AMD closed her eyes for the time being and spoke softly to Steve.

"You know, Rogers, if you want a friend, there's a chance you might be in the wrong business." She heard Steve sigh again and she peeked at him through her lashes. "But, you were very honest with me, Cap, and that made me not kill you. Reminded me of the time me and Clint first met. Anyways, спасибо. I probably needed to hear that before this mission and facing demons from my past. I'm going to warn you though, just because we've had this talk, doesn't mean I'm not going to put a bullet in Luchkov's head still. He's an evil man and needs to be eradicated quickly. He's corrupt." The elevator bell dinged above them signaling their arrival to the rooftop and quinjet pad. Clint, Fury, and the pilot were waiting for their arrival.

"Well it's about damn time you two got here. We're ten minutes behind schedule. Get your butts on that jet." Fury huffed, annoyed with his two top agents for being late. Clint stumbled into the jet first, bag of potato chips in hand. "We've got to fly your asses to Volgograd and I want you three there before sun fall." He watched as Steve allowed to board the jet first, him following after. Fury got on last and pressed the button to close the loading dock.

 _Oh they will need to listen, listen_

 _I'm so much stronger they will need to listen to what I have to say_

 _There's a bigger world that I'm fighting for_

 _when I come back and trying to show some love_

Clint had found his seat in the quinjet and Natasha settled in next to him. She swiped his bag of potato chips and held them arms length away from him as he began to reach for them and whine. "Nat stole my potato chips!"

"Barton, we all know if you keep eating these, you're going to be bloated on your mission and complain the whole time." Natasha popped a chip into her mouth and crunched happily on it. "Besides, they're mine now." She saw Steve stand awkwardly in the middle of the floor and she quietly gestured for him to sit down next to her. He smiled and accepted, leaning over to Natasha and asked quietly, but loud enough for Clint to hear,

"Can I have a chip, Nat?" He grinned along with the red head when she handed him the bag and Clint made a cry of protest.

"How come he gets some and I don't? I'm the one that grabbed them. Can I have more, Nat, please?" Clint clasped his hands together in mock begging and gave her his best puppy dog eyes. Blue eyes musted over, as if he was going to cry, but of course he wouldn't. It'd be humiliating for the former assassin to be crying over a stolen bag if chips. That and he'd never hear the end of all the teasing Natasha would put into it.

Natasha just put a finger to her chin as if she were thinking deeply. She turned to Steve next. "I don't know, Steve. Should we hive him the rest of the bag?" She smirked when she saw him pluck the last chip from the bag, unbeknownst to Clint.

Steve just shrugged and said, "Why not? He deserves it." He watched as Natasha handed the bag over to Clint and quickly reach a hand inside the bag. He face contorted into confusion before annoyance as he realized he had just been duped. He began to chuckle along with Natasha who began to analyzwher finger nails.

"I can't believe you got the Cap to play along in this cruel joke!" Clint leaned forward to pointedly look at Steve. "I thought you were supposed to be Mr. Golden Boy. The epitome of America's values! And here you are bullying me with a Russian agent." Clint cried out in pain as Natasha decked a punch into his left arm.

It was moments like these Natasha appreciated the most. Laughing and having fun with people she could trust. Being yelled at by Fury for not doing something properly and making things more complicated then they should've. But, she knew, at the end of the day, at the end of a mission, she was surrounded by people who cared for her and each other. Indeed, she believed she did grow stronger. She wouldn't admit out loud or even as much to herself, but Natasha entertained the idea that maybe, just _maybe,_ she found herself a place and people she could call family and a home. These were people worth fighting for in her world. She wouldn't admit to the frivolous feelings of love and content in her heart. Not quite yet, still afraid of something bad happening.

So instead, she locked away all thoughts and feelings in the moment and refocused her attention onto the scolding Fury. She cooly suggested him about keeping his trench coat on and something else that had Clint holding his sides from laughter. Steve just awkwardly fidgeted next to her as Fury have her the biggest reprimand he'd seen since being in the army.

Ah, yes. This was certainly Natasha's home. Whether she'd admit it to herself at the moment, but it was somewhere she was comfortable being around.

 _When I come back and trying to show some love_

 _Trying to show some love_

* * *

 **Hello! I hoped you liked that. It was my first Avengers fanfic so I hope I didn't make anyone too OOC. And it was my first fanfic in awhile too so it probably sucks anyway. But it's the thought that counts, right? I'm just gonna say now I'm a Cold War fan (Romanogers), but I don't mind Soviet Spouses too (BuckyNat). Ah, but, I don't own the Avengers or the song Mermaid by Yuna.**


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